


glow like a fireflower

by ephemeral_afterlight



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baking, Canon Compliant, Chaotic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Are Siblings, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders is Bad at Feelings, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders is Extra, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders is a Good Friend, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders is a Little Shit, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders is a Mess, Dancing, Dancing and Singing, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders is a Little Shit, Deceit Sanders is a Little Shit, Deceit Sanders is a Sweetheart, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gay Disaster Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Getting Together, ICONIC TAGS, Insecure Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Insecurity, Katana, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Oblivious Deceit Sanders, Pet Names, Pining, Rival Relationship, Rivalry, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Singing, Smitten Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Sort Of, Swords, Theatre, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, all of our favourite self- tags lads!, and roman secretly eats that shit up, deceit pretends to be smooth but he's just as dumb as roman, love these dramatic gays, secret friendship, sorry about all those lmao, these tags are great, virgil lost his dog movie 😔✊ f in the chat, well kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21967561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeral_afterlight/pseuds/ephemeral_afterlight
Summary: Roman’s gonna melt into a pile of mushy soft goo because of this wonderful snake, isn’t he?Or: 5 times Roman met Deceit, and 1 time Deceit met him
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Roceit
Comments: 108
Kudos: 283
Collections: Sanders Sides Secret Santa 2019





	glow like a fireflower

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ruh-roh-emer-has-an-account](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ruh-roh-emer-has-an-account), [emer_ald_isle (dullahandame)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dullahandame/gifts).



> hi there! this was actually supposed to be much shorter than it ended up as, but hopefully, 15k of pining gays makes up for this not being very good quality writing ^^;;;
> 
> thank you to everyone who beta-ed this (i think three different people helped out because of scheduling issues, so thank you to you all! love you guys)!
> 
> i hope you enjoy this, [@ruh-roh-emer-has-an-account](https://ruh-roh-emer-has-an-account.tumblr.com)! happy holidays!
> 
> (trigger warnings: lots of cursing, remus-typical inappropriate language and very mild sexual language, self-hatred/self-worth issues, lots of misunderstandings, confrontation. no unsympathetic sides, but virgil says some mean things. he means well, but he doesn't go about showing it the right way, leading to some very big assumptions being made.)

1

“You foul fiend… you have encroached upon my territory, laid waste to the land, and terrorized this village for the last time. My duty as the brave prince of this kingdom is to slay you, and bring peace to my subjects once again. Prepare to be defeated!  _ Hi-yah! _ ”

Roman leaps forward, stabbing the straw dummy with his katana all the way through to the hilt. The jostling movement causes small clumps of straw to shake loose and rain to the ground, and the cloth bindings keeping its shape properly together rip open and flutter to the grass. With another little jiggle of his sword, the dummy’s head falls off, bouncing onto the dirt and rolling off slowly down the hill.

“Yes! I have saved the day again!” Roman exclaims giddily, jumping up and down in his excitement. The hilt of his sword goes with him, unfortunately, and it gets tangled in the hay and scrappy remainders of the cloth bindings. With an affronted noise, Roman attempts to dislodge the katana, but it only becomes more stuck, and he’s left unsure of how to go about retrieving his precious blade.

The prince bites his lip and clicks his tongue, staring off at nothing as an idea forms in his head. He could do that one thing they do in cartoons, where they use their feet to brace themselves against the surface! That’s probably based on real life, right? The only problem is figuring out how to actually get into the right position.

Roman grasps the handle of his sword with both hands, taking a deep breath before attempting to kick his legs up and place them on the dummy. It doesn’t work, not by a long shot, and his feet immediately return to the ground. After a couple more tries and more close calls where he’s very close to smacking his face on the ground, Roman figures that just one foot would be fine, and he places his boot onto the hay right next to his katana. As a result, his body is left in an awkward position, and the strain on his back from twisting so strangely only spurs him on more to do this quickly.

With a grunt of exertion, Roman kicks forward into the dummy while pulling on his sword at the same time, and he realizes too late that he  _ really _ misjudged the force he would need to dislodge his blade. He overshoots by a mile, sending the prince sprawling to the ground with his mildly dusty katana landing not-so-gracefully right next to his face. 

He takes a moment to process this, and a few moments later, he realizes that there is a  _ very sharp sword right next to his face. _ Roman promptly lets out a shrill cry as he tangles himself up in his own limbs while trying to get away to safety, flailing in his best efforts to evade the blade. The sword doesn’t follow him, because it’s an inanimate object, and Roman immediately feels like an idiot for overreacting like that. In his defense, that was  _ scary. _

But perhaps less scary than a voice coming from behind him out of nowhere. 

“How elegant. I’m truly in awe of your creative thinking,” Deceit says, voice smooth and smug as he stares down at Roman’s starfishing body from above him. Roman shrieks louder than before, smacking himself in the face no less than three times while scrambling to jump to his feet, and he immediately thrusts out his sword to just barely stop with the tip pointed at the other side’s neck.

“Snake! Villain! What are you doing, trespassing in my domain?” Roman demands, loud and commandeering to hide his underlying meekness in the face of unfamiliarity. His hand thankfully remains steady, keeping the edge of the blade from accidentally poking into Deceit’s neck. Said side just stands there impassively, his single brow raised as he inspects his fingernails with boredom. He does know he’s wearing  _ gloves, _ right?

“This isn’t just your area, it’s also Remus’. And since he can go here, I can too,” Deceit corrects. Roman doesn’t really know what to think. He doesn’t seem hostile, per se, but he’s also  _ Deceit, _ so there’s no telling what he’s really thinking. The prince still keeps his guard up, but pulls his sword back, setting it back into its scabbard in one clean, practiced motion. And practiced it is, because Roman spent  _ ages _ trying to perfect that move. A year and plenty of accidental cuts later, he thinks it makes him look  _ so _ badass. Definitely worth the time and small amount of lost blood. 

“T-Then… why are you here? Come to observe my amazing sword-fighting skills?” Roman asks, a bright grin stretching across his face as he flexes his arms. Although, his arms aren’t really the weapon itself. He would have taken his katana and done some awesome slashes or a combo move, but it’s already put away in its sheath, and Roman’s pretty sure if he tries to put it away like that again, he’ll jinx his luck and accidentally stab himself. It’s happened before, so… he’ll just stick to the arms for now.

“But of course, how could I resist? That enchanting monologue, your defined musculature, those… interesting stances, the way you fell flat on your ass… there’s no way I’d miss it,” Deceit purrs, taking a single step closer. Roman’s selective hearing outweighs anything else, causing his mind to hone in on only what he wants to, and a light dusting of red brushes across his cheeks. Woah, Deceit must think Roman is  _ so _ cool, huh? He’d be right, of course. Of course.

“H-Haah, haha, you-- you think I’m defined?” Roman stumbles out, awkward in the way he simultaneously puffs out his chest and shrinks into himself at the compliment. Deceit’s eyes narrow in disbelief for all of a moment before he cracks a small smile, huffing out a soft laugh as he takes another step closer. Roman’s too caught up in the ego boost to really notice or get defensive again, and he’s left returning to reality with Deceit right there in front of his face.

“But of course. You are the heroic prince, after all, hm?” Deceit muses, taking the final step to end up nearly pressed against him. Before Roman can react, Deceit slides an arm around his waist, chests touching in one swift movement. The snake-like side’s hand delves down to dip underneath Roman’s white jacket, fingers splaying outward to rest light on his bare skin, and the feeling of the gloves on his back sends chills down his spine. With his other hand, Deceit reaches over to lift Roman’s arm away from his side, using the access to run his fingertips along the muscles there. “Must be pretty strong to be able to heroically save the day from all those villains.”

Roman’s mouth drops open, shock leaving him unable to speak. His only response is a series of stuttered, unintelligible noises, getting higher in pitch the more Deceit links their bodies together. A lined face half-covered in scales tips up closer to Roman’s own, close enough to see the light smattering of freckles and the rapidly reddening cheeks. Without a word, Deceit leans up, ghosting his lips at the corner of the prince’s own, close enough to touch but never quite getting there. After a few seconds held with bated breath, Deceit smirks and releases his body all at once, stepping back as if it never happened in the first place.

And Roman doesn’t know how to respond to that, so instead, his body takes over for him. His brain completely fizzles out, leaving him coloured strawberry red in the wake of his embarrassment. Embarrassment that he let Deceit get that close, but also embarrassment that for that long moment, he was tempted to lean down and press their lips together properly. With that stray thought, the prince’s knees give out, sending him to the dirt on his knees. His hands come up to pat at the redness in his cheeks, trying to get the flames to die down, and this only draws a laugh from the snake a couple feet away.

“Well. You have fun with…  _ that, _ and I  **won’t** be taking my leave now,” Deceit teases, that familiar backward-speak coming out to play. Roman’s head whips up, mouth open to speak, but nothing comes out. His hands finally just rest on his cheeks, absorbing the heat radiating from his cherry-stained skin. The snake-like side nods his head once in acknowledgment before turning around with a flourish, and Roman comes back to himself all at once.

“You’re… y-you’re still my rival! No matter how you compliment my… dashing l-looks and amazing sword skills!  _ Rival, _ you hear me?”

“Yes, dear. Of course,” Deceit replies as he glances back, eyes glinting in amusement. Without another word, the scaled side approaches the treeline, getting further and further away. He slinks away into the forest, going in the direction of Remus’ haunted mansion, and his silhouette disappears into the darkness before Roman can think to stand up again.

* * *

“Oh my  _ god-- _ Remus, I-- I-- I almost  _ kissed _ him, what the  _ fuck--” _

“C’mon! Quit being a pansy and get straight to the good stuff!”

“The good stuff?”

“Fucking!”

_ “Remus--” _

2

_ “And  _ I! _ Should have seen it… through the window to your heart,” _ Roman belts, the melody he’s worked for weeks perfecting echoing in the large, empty auditorium. He dances gracefully across the stage, weaving in and out of his homemade set pieces with choreographed ease. He’s been working on this show for a  _ very _ long time in the background, using it as a side project to escape into when he needs to cope with stress away from the chaos and noise.  _ “Visions of your crying always tear me apart.” _

_ “And you call yourself misery,” _ the prince sings, tempo slowing down to match the bittersweet tone the song has been intricately crafted to take on. He stops in his meander through the set, collapsing carefully onto the edge of a rooftop he constructed out of wood. It sits low enough to the ground that he can’t fall and seriously injure himself (the two sprained ankles were a different story, okay?), but he’s still able to pull off the move he’s still debating about whether or not to keep in the routine.

_ “Because you sure do love my company.” _ Roman ends low, somber and melancholy as the timbre of his voice cuts through the pre-recorded piano music drifting through to the rafters. As he sings, he lays sideways along the rooftop, letting one arm and one leg dangle below him. The long brown coat he wears for his costume drapes over the faux-concrete, fluttering in the “wind” (simulated by powerful fans offstage) as the big buttons glint gold under the stage lights. Fake newspapers roll across his scene, creating the illusion that he’s in a polluted city, and it’s  _ exactly _ the setting that Roman’s been trying to create for months.

_ “Maybe it’s just me trying to hide from myself,” _ comes a sudden voice from below him, soft enough to barely hold a tune. Fingertips graze his own, replicating the part of his routine that Roman’s never been able to truly rehearse on account of him being the only person taking part. The intrusion into his scene startles Roman so bad he jolts up and promptly rolls off the edge of the roof, which would definitely have left him with a concussion had the second presence not caught him bridal-style in his arms.  _ “Or maybe it’s just you trying to bait me out of my shell.” _

“Wha-- how did you-- when-- how do you know my song?!” Roman squeaks as he stares up into the heterochromatic eyes that have been plaguing him for the past week. Deceit doesn’t let him to the floor, and instead lifts him up enough for Roman to scramble back onto the rooftop, cheeks burning in mortification. “I-- uh…  _ I’ll pull you out into the world and show you how to live.” _

“I’ve sat in on some of your rehearsals,” Deceit mutters lowly, standing on his tiptoes to reach the edge of the half-building. He rests his arms on the wood and his chin in his arms, head tilted just enough to look 10% more interested than before.  _ “Just leave me be, inside my head, ‘cause nothing has to give.” _

“Stalker,” Roman mumbles, settling down onto his knees at the lip of the rooftop. His body relaxes slightly against his will, unconsciously more comfortable even in the snake’s presence (or maybe  _ because _ of it). The prince’s coat swoops out around him, laying flat in an arc around his body on the painted wood, and even the large fabric doesn’t allow him to hide from Deceit’s piercing gaze.  _ “But you can’t hide in the dark forever, the light is beckoning you.” _

_ “Don’t tell me I can’t lie forever, I have nothing to prove,” _ Deceit finishes the rhyme with a quirked eyebrow, silently poking fun at how uncannily the line fits himself. Roman flushes under the scrutiny, not wanting to admit just who he had in mind while writing the lyrics to his song. Those nights spent hunched over his old-fashioned wooden writing desk under the light of his oil lamp might have been in solitude, but Roman was never really alone in his mind.

_ “Just take my hand and follow me, breathe in the freshest air,” _ the prince vocalizes, much more powerful and in the proper tone now that he’s gaining a bit of his confidence back. Roman shifts forward to clutch at the edge of the roof, manicured nails scratching against the grey paint. He’s leaning over Deceit now, feeling small even with the height difference, and it takes a monumental amount of effort to not fall off again when Deceit winks at him.

_ “Just promise me a kiss and I’ll join you out there,” _ the snake-like side sings, slow and exactly the way Roman imagined it. Days spent stuck in his bed daydreaming were rarely uneventful, filled by the spontaneity of his play and how the components and ingredients needed for Roman’s own brand of perfection change all the time. Deceit seems to understand the nature of this show, how it only truly comes alive under the influence of outside, subjective perspective, and the way he fits so seamlessly into his environment leaves Roman reeling. He’s made the set his own just by existing in the way that he sees the second character, inserting himself into the routine like a polished professional. And, well, Roman  _ did _ say that acting and lying are two sides of the same coin, so maybe it’s a more natural progression than he thought.

“I--  _ wait--” _ Roman stumbles, coming to a late realization that this part of the routine is supposed to have the two characters kiss. And… fuck. Deceit’s hand flashes up to grip onto Roman’s shirt collar, yanking him down closer to the edge, which nearly sends him flying off again. Their faces are close, just as close as they were the other day, and Roman feels his heart stuttering in his chest.

But before their lips can touch, Deceit laughs and then pulls Roman fully off the edge of the rooftop, drawing a high noise from his lungs that never escapes his mouth. The prince falls into Deceit’s waiting arms, caught just as gracefully as before, and before he knows it, his feet are placed on the ground and he’s standing upright again.

_ “Courses of mystery brewing underneath,” _ Deceit suddenly sings, the tone of the song switching to a more upbeat version of what it was before. The lyrics and melody are unfamiliar, not any one of the songs Roman has written for this, but he doesn’t have any time to contemplate it before Deceit’s hands are on his waist and they’re off dancing across the stage.

Roman trips over his feet more than a few times because he doesn’t know what Deceit’s doing, can’t process it at all. It takes a few more moments of quick footwork for the prince to sort of get the hang of it, needing time to understand the general style Deceit is going for, and soon he’s able to follow Deceit properly with much less slip-ups than before.  _ “Dreamers of history falling in between.” _

_ “Don’t you remember the times we had? Don’t you distinguish them from the rest?” _

The two of them twirl between pieces of the set, becoming slowly more intertwined the more they fall together. Deceit leads him to a bench and gestures to it with his head, so Roman takes a step up onto it as they go by, turning their positions around in the second he’s up there. Deceit catches him by the waist as he jumps off, letting him approach the ground again much slower, and the feeling of hands on his sides is dizzying.

_ “Visible vices bring you out of your comfort zone, but could you even stay there knowing you’d be left all alone?” _ Deceit vocalizes, a smooth and simple tune doing wonders to highlight the lyrics of the song. He’s completely a cappella, but the lack of background music doesn’t hinder or take away from the song’s charm; rather, it only adds to it. His voice remains smooth and strong even as they jump from prop to prop, a constant in the twirls and steps.

_ “You block out the sunlight in the fear that you’ll get burned,” _ Deceit trills, hitting higher notes with far more ease than Roman himself would have. Their footsteps echo in the theatre, a hollow sound that only adds to the ambience. Roman’s not sure what song Deceit’s singing, but it’s already made enough of an impact that the prince is sure it’ll be stuck in his head for days.  _ “But you don’t seem to realize it’s more healing than you’ve learned.” _

_ “You cry to yourself under the cover of night, but don’t forget that you always have the moonlight.” _

The lyrics bounce high and soft off of their still environment, as if they’ve sucked all of the life around them into themselves. They’re both exploding stars, shining with energy and hope. The mysticism of the moments they share hangs low in the air, any other sound tiny and unimportant compared to Deceit’s melody.  _ “So bring your voice to my window.” _

_ “And let me kiss you real slow,” _ Deceit whispers, barely any sound escaping from his lungs as he takes Roman back in his arms and dips him backward. One hand holds him up by the waist while the other cradles his head, angling him just perfect so that Deceit can dip his head towards the prince’s neck. His lips and nose graze Roman’s throat, brush at his pulse point with a featherlight touch, and Roman can feel the shivers down his spine threatening to collapse his legs again.

They stand there suspended in mid-air for what feels like years but is probably closer to seconds, Deceit just breathing the prince in without a care in the world. The snake-like side can probably feel the way Roman swallows nervously below where his lips just barely touch his throat, close enough to lay a kiss there. Or… or close enough to bite, to go for his jugular, and the spell is instantly broken.

“W-Wait, wait-- what-- you, are you…  _ fiend! _ Trying to get me to let my guard down, eh? I s-see you! Your-- your plans! Evil!” Roman harps, slipping out of Deceit’s grasp to stumble backward. The sneakers he’s wearing are unfamiliar, not the same weight and size as his combat boots, and the difference causes his ankles to catch on the rubber soles as he attempts to put distance between the two of them. He almost falls on his ass for the second time that he’s in this weird situation with the snake-like side, but thankfully, he manages to keep himself mostly upright.

“My plans? What exactly are those plans you speak of?” Deceit hums, a smug smirk on his face all the while. He doesn’t come forward, but rather stands there with his arms crossed, head tilted in a way that’s-- irritated? Condescending? Endeared? Roman doesn’t really know, since he’s too busy fumbling for his katana to properly read those heterochromatic eyes.

“Your… your evil plans! Villain plans! I-- I…” Roman tries, trailing off when he’s unable to place any kind of blame. Deceit hasn’t really…  _ done _ anything, just jumped into his routine and kept him from falling and cracking his head open on the stage. That’s not really villain behaviour, right? But then again, maybe he’s being nice so Roman will think he’s  _ not  _ a villain, and then he’ll whip out his secret evil plan and ruin the day! Roman has to be ready for when that time comes!

“Oh, sweetheart, there are  **always** ulterior motives when it comes to you,” Deceit remarks, light and teasing, and then he fixes his bowler hat on his head. Roman tries to stutter his way through a reply, but nothing comes out intelligible, so instead, he just brandishes his blade in an attempt to save his pride.

By the time his sword is drawn, Deceit has slipped away into the darkness once again.

* * *

“Remus, I-- I-- I  _ gave into a movie cliché! _ My life is  _ ruined!” _

“Nah, my brother loves that cheesy shit! Give him a rose and he’ll probably pass out on the spot!”

“You… really? You don’t think it weirded him out?”

“‘Course not! You’ll be in his pants in no time!”

“Remus, shut up!”

3

_ “Gah! _ This is useless! I’m just wasting time,” Roman despairs, slamming his forehead into the hard, polished wood of his writing desk. His chair is warm beneath him, but it provides no comfort despite it, and his legs are starting to go numb from the angle he’s positioned himself at. There’s moonlight shining in through his window, spilling out past his curtains in bright white, artificial and bold. It doesn’t feel real, just like the paper in front of him doesn’t feel real, and he crumples the sheet up with an angry flourish only to toss it over his shoulder.

A new piece replaces the space the previous one filled, clean and crisp with dark lines and empty space, just as much of a hollow chasm as his mind is right now. He’s supposed to be brainstorming, coming up for ideas for Thomas’ next video, but even after hours sat in the same position, he’s still got nothing. Both the pen and his hands are sweaty even with the very little use they’ve gotten tonight, and the discomfort only plagues Roman more.

He wipes his hand on his pants after setting his pen down, unable to think of anything to write down on the spot. It’s far too difficult to not just give up and collapse in bed, to reach out for the rest his body is begging for, but he can’t stop now. Thomas is counting on him, needs him to stay consistent in performing his duties. He  _ is _ the embodiment of creativity, after all, and what good is a Creativity who can’t  _ create? _

Roman’s so deep in his mind that he doesn’t hear Deceit slink in, just as snake-y and quiet as usual. In all honesty, he could probably be there for hours without Roman realizing it, because once Roman really gets focused on his work, everything else in the world just… shutters out. The only reason he becomes aware of another presence is because he spots Deceit’s bright yellow gloves out of the corner of his eye.

“W--  _ Deceit? _ Again? Why are you in my room? What’s your play here? Why do you keep following me? What are you planning? Are you trying to defeat me? ‘Cause I’m-- I’m super strong! And I’ll definitely win--” Roman starts, getting lost in his own tirade as a result of the sleep-deprivation. Thankfully, Deceit interrupts him before he can fall much further.

“Roman. Calm down,” Deceit commands, and Roman is mortified by how quickly and easily he complies while not even under the influence of Deceit’s power. His mouth immediately snaps shut and his hands hit his lap, no sound or movement escaping him apart from the weary fluttering of his eyelashes. The snake-like side sighs, coming to lean on the wall beside Roman’s desk with a grimace. “Why are you up so late again?”

“I… I’m thinking of new video ideas. It’s… well, it could be going better,” Roman mumbles, biting his lip. He knocks his head against the back of his desk chair as all of the air whooshes out of his lungs in a single rush, kicking his feet forward to bounce off the edge of the table leg. Deceit just hums, eyes narrowing as he studies the exhausted prince, and apparently, some of that sleepiness starts to show.

“Poor Princey. Tired, hm? How are you supposed to come up with all of those  **_awful_ ** ideas when you can barely keep your head up?” Deceit drawls, a surprisingly small amount of teasing interlaced in his tone. Roman immediately perks up, offended, up in arms and ready to confront the insult. Before he can say a word, Deceit’s eyebrow twitches in annoyance and his lips purse as he ducks his head, clicking his tongue irritatedly. “Reflex. I didn’t mean awful.”

“Oh,” Roman breathes, settling back into his chair. The exhaustion renews itself immediately, causing the prince’s arms to fall and his eyes to droop. His chair squeaks, the only noise in his bedroom as he swivels lightly back and forth to try to keep himself awake. “I just… I should have been able to come  _ up _ with something by now, you know? I’m  _ creativity! _ I’m his fountain of ideas, a tool for his creations! I’m his pen when he writes, his voice when he sings! So why is it so hard for me?”

“Everybody has off days, my prince. Even me. It’s okay to have trouble, and it’s okay to be frustrated about it. That’s only natural,” Deceit reassures, gaze softening at the unusual admission. He doesn’t seem like he’s messing with him, doesn’t have that same sharp smile and mischievous eyes that Roman associates with his lies. The snake-like side feels like a much bigger presence than he likely means to be, so knowing that it almost feels like he’s saying something else, too.

“But what even  _ am _ I to Thomas? I’m supposed to be the one who helps him achieve his dreams, to do the things he loves-- and all I can do is sit here with my pen in my hand, not being able to come up with  _ anything. _ I can’t help him with videos, can’t do what he’s counting on me to do, can’t do my  _ purpose. _ And a Creativity that can’t fulfill its purpose is worthless to him. I’m worthless,” Roman whispers, gripping his fountain pen so hard it shudders under the force. His hands shake, lip trembling upon the suppression of tears, a show of weakness that he’s so, so desperate to keep locked up inside him where it’s supposed to be.

“You are  _ not _ worthless,” Deceit stresses vehemently, like even the notion of the thought makes him sick. An angry look flashes in his eyes, eyebrow pulling in, and it takes everything in Roman not to flinch. “You are worth  _ everything, _ because you are the only you to ever exist. There will never be someone else like you, Roman, because you are unique, an individual. You could never be replaced. You’re not worthless-- you’re  _ priceless.” _

“But-- But I--” Roman gapes through swimming vision, unable to form a single coherent thought. Deceit’s not teasing him, insulting him, making fun of him, or dismissing him at  _ all. _ Roman really isn’t used to that. That’s probably that’s his fault, because maybe he doesn’t talk about his real feelings to others as much as he should, but… 

“You may be a facet of Thomas’ being, but you shouldn’t reduce yourself down to that. You aren’t  _ just _ Creativity, because if you were, you wouldn’t be  _ Roman, _ too. You are your own self, with your own personal autonomy. It’s okay if sometimes you’d rather be Roman than Creativity. It’s okay. It’s really okay.

“You aren’t awful or bad or worthless because you buckle under the weight of your function sometimes. You aren’t useless because you can’t always be what other people want you to be. You need  _ breaks, _ real times of rest. Give yourself time to recuperate. You… you just want to help Thomas, and that in itself is more than enough.“ 

What Deceit said-- it’s relieving. So mindlessly and utterly relieving, even when Roman himself doesn’t fully believe it. It’s just… Roman’s never had anyone tell him it’s okay to not be okay before, and the weight it takes off of his heart is massive. It’s like he’s finally being allowed to breathe after a lifetime of his lungs being squeezed into nothingness.

But there’s something else, something wrong. Deceit’s phrasing, how his eyes flickered between Roman and the floor, how he fidgeted constantly from what seemed like anxiety. The personal nature of the words, the double meaning and wistfulness and darkness behind those eyes-- Roman realizes something very important very quickly, and the knowledge punches him in the gut.

“...Thank you, Deceit. That does make me feel a bit better. But… you know that too, right?” Roman asks, brow furrowed. His mind is turbulent in the face of this new information, how it seems so obvious now that he’s really thinking about it. He worries his bottom lip between white teeth as he prods at his fountain pen, unsure of what he’s supposed to do with his hands.

“What?” Deceit replies, seemingly caught off-guard. His head snaps up, confused eyes boring into Roman’s own, head tilted as if he doesn’t understand a word of what Roman said. He regards the prince carefully, unassuming, not letting himself-- what? Get his hopes up? That’ll never do.

“You’re not bad either just ‘cause you’re Deceit, y’know? I’ve been thinking a lot, and I don’t really… w-well, I don’t think it’s very prince-like of me to pass judgement on a fellow side without really knowing them. A-And… you  _ are _ trying to help Thomas too, right? Even if I don’t always agree with  _ how _ you do that, you’re just doing your job like all of us! And-- And it’s not fair for you to get called evil or ‘dark’ just because of it! It’s not  _ fair! _ You’ve never even done anything bad to us, but we-- we-- we all scorned you because we didn’t bother to look past the surface. And that… is  _ not _ the kind of person Thomas should be. It’s not the kind of person  _ I _ want to be. S-So… I’m sorry, Deceit. I truly am. From the bottom of my heart, I’m so very sorry for treating you like I have,” Roman finishes, gaze sad but firm. Finally understanding his own behaviour and how to remedy it gives a new energy to him, a life that wasn’t there before, and he thinks that he can fix this if he really tries. He won’t let this go on any longer.

“Roman… what?” Deceit whispers, eyes wide. His mouth is parted in shock even though nothing else comes out, and his stance is much more hunched over than before. He looks like a scared animal, a deer in headlights, and those eyes, those multicoloured eyes, they’re... they’re wet. Oh god. Oh fuck, is he-- is he  _ crying? _ “You-- That’s-- That’s not true! I am evil! I am bad! I look scary and ugly, what more do you need?!”

He sounds desperate. Afraid. Afraid of Roman, afraid of himself, afraid in the way his gloved hands tremble and his eyes are filled with panic. Roman doesn’t really know what to do, since Deceit has  _ never _ acted like this before, and his lies have never been this transparent. “Deceit! Stop! You don’t-- you don’t have to do that! You don’t have to-- to lie about your feelings, and pretend like you’re o-okay with this, because I know you’re not! Nobody would be! You can’t-- can’t tell me all of that stuff and then say that it doesn’t apply to you too! You… you aren’t evil, I  _ know _ you’re not, because if you were, Thomas would have become a bad person a long time ago. Look at us. We’re a mess. If you were actually trying to get Thomas to hurt people, you wouldn’t have had much work cut out for you. But… you didn’t. You’re not evil. You’re not a villain, and I  _ see _ that now that I’ve-- I’ve-- now that I’ve taken my head out of my  _ ass! _ So just stop! Stop pretending.”

Maybe Roman should have taken that a little slower. Deceit looks like he’s close to a panic attack, like any minute now he could stop breathing, and his knees wobble weakly. But as soon as it came, in the blink of an eye, Deceit’s demeanour shifts completely. The change in behaviour leaves Roman reeling, how the snake-like side goes from nearly falling over to standing straight and tall just as he usually does. The shift in expression gives the prince whiplash, leaving him extremely concerned and unsure of what to say.

Thankfully, Deceit fills the gap of silence for him. “I… apologize for the disruption. You seem very…  _ passionate _ about this topic, but I assure you, I’m not the suffering damsel in distress you seem to believe I am. I’m fine. I don’t need pity, so don’t try to turn this back around on me-- my original point still stands. You need to rest, Roman. Your pen and paper will be here when you wake up, so please, don’t stay up until five in the morning again, alright? Time for bed,” Deceit tells him, tone leaving no room for argument. Roman doesn’t really know if he even wants to argue, anyway, because as soon as he opens his mouth to protest, a long yawn spills out of his lungs.

“Come on. Up. In bed,” the other side commands, guiding Roman out of his chair and over to his king-sized mattress with a gentle hand. Roman’s starting to get pretty out of it, dizzy because of his lack of sleep, so he appreciates the help. He tries to vocalize this, but all that comes out is another yawn, so he doesn’t try again. Deceit just shakes his head, snapping his finger to change Roman into his favourite matching pajama set, and then the prince is playfully shoved onto the bed with a small  _ “oomph” _ noise.

“Hmph. Y-- you… y’may not be a villain, but you’re still my rival, y’hear? Rival! And… and we may be rivals, but rivals gotta look out for each other too, y’know? So… don’t be a stranger, Dee. M’kay?” Roman slurs, big, hazy, half-lidded brown eyes staring up imploringly at Deceit from where he’s nearly buried in his big, fluffy pillows. Deceit’s lips part, an unreadable look in his eyes as he draws the bright red comforter up and over Roman’s curled-up form. “If y’a need anythin’, I’m here.”

And before the prince can receive an answer, he’s falling into darkness. He doesn’t know when Deceit gives him a contented smile, doesn’t feel when he tucks the edges of Roman’s comforter under his legs, doesn’t see when Deceit turns the light off with a soft click. It’s two-thirty a.m. on a  _ very _ early Tuesday morning, and this is the first time in weeks that Creativity has been asleep before the sunrise.

Roman is pretty sure he imagines the feeling of a kiss on his forehead.

* * *

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Holy shit. Oh fuck. Remus, I’m so fuckin’ stupid. I-- I almost cried. What the fuck. What the  _ fuck, _ I don’t cry! And-- And-- I gave him a  _ forehead kiss! _ Like a pansy! A sappy loser! That’s so creepy! He was sleeping!”

“Hey, does that mean you’re a som--”

_ “I’m not a somnophile!” _

4

Okay, so  _ maybe _ trying to make cookies for the others when Roman knows that his baking skills are completely nonexistent was a bad idea.

To be fair, the recipe Roman found online is pretty straightforward, and was easy to follow for a majority of the prep work. Prep work is getting the ingredients together, right? Roman hopes so, because all he’s done so far is summon ingredients, and he’s already somehow dropped three eggs on the floor and has flour in places flour should never be. And he doesn’t really know what to do, because his only other choice is to ask someone for help and he’s kinda out of luck on that front.

The cookies are supposed to be for Patton and Virgil to apologize for a mean comment Roman made the other day when he was already upset. His favourite fountain pen broke earlier that day, and even though he easily just summoned a new one, the original was a gift given to him by Thomas and it’s been very near and dear to his heart for years now. It was just the tiny stressor that sent everything else tumbling down, and he lashed out because of it, which he deeply regrets. The cookies are supposed to be part of his apology, which is why he can’t ask either of them to help.

There’s absolutely no way he’s going to ask his brother, not only because Remus is kind of terrifying and really annoying, but also because he’d likely just add in whatever he saw fit. Instead of eggs, he’d probably put in Tide pods, or instead of flour, it’d be… cocaine, or something. Who knows. Roman just doesn’t want his apology cookies to taste like dog food instead of chocolate chips, so that’s another person out.

Logan really is his best option, because he knows the most about baking out of everyone, and he’d probably make them taste  _ super _ good. Logan doesn’t bake for them often, but the few times he has, the treats have been literally the best thing Roman’s ever tasted in his whole entire life, so they’ve become a rare commodity in their household (mindscape household? Mind household? Mind… hold?). But Logan also hates being in the kitchen with anyone else in there, and he’s supposed to be helping Thomas out with something in the real world today, and Roman would be testing the wrath of a merciless god if he were to interrupt that.

That only leaves…

“Dee! Hey, rival! What’cha doing here?” Roman exclaims, giddy wiggling and happy grin making him come alive. Deceit strides over to the counter beside Roman and hoists himself up to sit on the edge, short legs tapping on the cabinet as they swing back and forth idly. 

“ **I’m planning your demise,** ” Deceit says dryly, knocking his head back against the wooden door of the wall cabinet behind him. Roman narrows his eyes suspiciously, then turns around to retrieve an item from his pile on the granite countertop. The prince holds his spatula up like a sword, pointing the rounded cyan silicone at the lazily smirking snake.

“Dee, I swear, if you put a glitter bomb in my socks again I’m gonna slay you right here and now,” Roman threatens, shuddering as he recalls the event. He aptly named it “The Great Glitter Sock Incident of 2019”, and Roman swears he still has nightmares about being chased by a big glitter monster that smells like fabric softener and feet.

“Nah, just kidding. Got bored. Remus went into his mansion again, so I thought I’d come bother you. What’s all this?” Deceit asks, bracing his hands on the edge of the counter to lean forward and check out the goods. He eyes each ingredient and tool for far longer than Roman feels like he reasonably needs to, but who knows. Maybe he has bad vision, or something. Maybe Roman should trick him into trying on Logan’s glasses at some point to see if his theory’s right. He’d just ask Patton, but the father figure’s own glasses are actually fake; Logan is the only one out of them who actually does need glasses to see. Weird, considering Thomas’ own vision is just fine, but who is Roman to question the wonders of the mind?

“I’m making cookies for Virgil and Patton to say sorry. Wanna help?”

“Sure,” Deceit nods, picking up a mixing bowl to inspect it. “What are you saying sorry for?”

Roman takes in a deep breath, grimacing as he lets it all out very slowly. His sigh morphs into a weird mix between a wheeze, a whine, and a groan, and Deceit only raises his eyebrow. The prince slumps over once he’s out of breath, turning to lean against the counter opposite of where Deceit sits, and he looks back at his rival with his hand smushed into his face. “...I called them ‘big stupid dumb normie poo-poo heads’ because they told me that they don’t agree that Shrek is a cinematic masterpiece and the best film ever created.”

Deceit laughs so hard he actually falls off of the counter. 

At first, he’s able to brace himself against the wood, but his knees give out as soon as Roman whines, “It was  _ justified!”, _ sending the snake-like side crashing in a heap on the floor. He slowly melts into the tile more and more every time he looks back up at Roman, restarting his cackling again when he starts to calm down upon seeing the prince’s red-cheeked mortification.

“H-Holy  _ shit, _ are you serious?” Deceit wheezes, only inches away from laying on the floor completely. Roman grumbles under his breath but begrudgingly lets out a laugh, too, because he has to admit, it is pretty funny in hindsight, even if he was genuinely pissed off at the time. But once he opens the floodgates, the laughter doesn’t stop, and the two of them dissolve into helpless giggles.

“Okay-- Okay,  _ listen, _ I was-- I was mad, okay? I shouldn’t have-- have called them b-big stupid dumb normie pp _ pphhh--” _ Roman tries, but Deceit’s answering squeak at the reminder gives him no chance at getting the words out properly. It takes them a few more minutes of trying to get each other to calm down and then promptly losing it again when one of them remembers the ridiculous story, but eventually, they’re able to properly catch their breath and massage their aching sides. “I-- okay, I wasn’t really mad at them, I was just frustrated and needed something to take it out on. It was-- it  _ was _ immature of me-- shut  _ up, _ Dee-- so I’m making them cookies to apologize. Please help, I suck at baking.”

_ “Pft-- _ you’re… really something, Roman. And, I mean, I can try, but I’m no Logan, so don’t be surprised if they end up pretty mediocre. Although, even if they don’t taste good, Patton’d probably cry anyway just because you made them in the first place. Virgil definitely wouldn’t cry, and he would  _ definitely _ insult your baking skills, but he’d still force himself to eat them all anyway, so I think you’re in the clear,” Deceit replies, huffing out another laugh as he stands himself back up. Roman joins him, nodding along as he goes, and they meet in front of the pile of ingredients.

“Hey. I bet my cookies will taste better than yours,” Roman challenges, a sly glint in his eye and a mischievous grin spreading across his face. Deceit gives him a look that says “I know exactly what you’re doing but I’m still going to go along with it anyway”, and that same look is so familiar by now that it almost feels nostalgic. He and Deceit have only been hanging out more frequently the past few months, but the time they’ve spent together has always been fulfilling, and Roman isn’t loathe to admit that he thinks he might be closer now to Deceit than he is to any other side. And maybe that’s not a good thing, being more in tune with someone you’ve only really known for a few months compared to people you’ve known practically your whole life, but for some reason, they just click.

And that’s true now, too, because even when they make the biggest mess Roman has ever seen in his life, they still have a blast doing it. It started out fairly tame, but the competitive spirit in the prince won out over any kind of foresight or reason, so the little mound of flour went flying into the snake-like side’s cheek without any thought as to the repercussions. And repercussions there were, as it spawned an all-out food fight, from flour bombs to chocolate bullets to eggs thrown like cannonballs. And the best part about it is that none of it was truly real, so they just waved away the damages and went right back on with their attempts at making consistently sized balls of chocolate chip cookie dough.

When they get to the point where they’re plopping the dough onto the baking sheet, that’s where the playful trash-talking comes out, and those twenty minutes or so are a blast, too.

(“I bet your cookies are gonna be flat! Rock-solid! Who knows, you probably even got thread from your dumb gloves in it!”

“Yeah, right. You’re the one whose cookies are going to be an awful texture. You’re shit at mixing your batter together, so who’s the real winner here?”

“You’re a bitch!”

“Yeah? Well you’re a dumbass!”

“No, you!”

“Oh, real mature. I bet your cookies are gonna taste like Remus  _ smells.” _

“How  _ dare _ you?!”)

Once they’ve finally got an amount of cookie dough balls set onto the baking paper that they’re both happy with, it’s about time to put them into the oven. They’ll both bake at the same temperature, just for a longer time, so Roman pulls out a cast-iron skillet left inside from god-knows-when to make room for another sheet.

“I swear, my cookies are gonna be so good. Even better than  _ Logan’s, _ you’ll see,” Roman declares as he leans forward to preheat the oven, sticking his tongue out of the side of his mouth in concentration as he carefully sets it to the number displayed on his phone screen in bold lettering. The recipe was simple enough, if not a little boring, so Roman decided to triple the vanilla extract measurement to spice things up a little bit. They’re gonna taste  _ amazing. _

“I wouldn’t say that anywhere in the vicinity of him. He’ll sit you down and give you a fifty-slide PowerPoint on why your cookies suck and his are objectively, mathematically perfect. And it’d suck, because he’d be  _ right.” _

And, yeah, he guesses Deceit’s will be alright, too. He decided to spice up his cookies in a more literal sense by adding cinnamon into the batter, and he chose to use butterscotch chips instead of chocolate chips like Roman opted for. The prince is fond of the classics, and he still thinks Deceit’s just trying to be extra for style points, but he can appreciate the creativity, at least.

“Eh, whatever. Maybe. Probably. Yeah. Shut up,” Roman huffs, mockingly miffed. His cookie tray is cold when he picks it up, so he slides it onto the top rack of the oven as soon as possible, and then he turns to gesture for Deceit to do the same. He isn’t really able to get past that second step, though, because as soon as he looks up, he realizes that there’s a small smudge of chocolate on Deceit’s nose.

Yes!  _ Finally! _ This is Roman’s chance to dish out some fun of his own! This is the perfect opportunity to get back at Deceit for all of the flirting, the jokes, and the teasing that he’s been doing to him the past few months. Every time the snake-like side decides it’s time to mess with him again, Roman is left speechless and warm, and this time, he wants to finally be able to return the favour.

With a cheeky grin, Roman reaches up and swipes the chocolate off of Deceit’s nose, lifting his hand up to just lick the sweet treat off instead of getting a napkin. For all that he was intending, he really wasn’t meaning for the whole… licking thing to also happen, it was really more of an afterthought than any conscious decision-making. But maybe that’s for the better, because Deceit glows the most wonderful cherry hue, and his thoughts completely fizzle out at Roman’s smug smirk.

The other side tries to stutter his way through a response, waving his hands around in an attempt to gain some control again. Roman never thought that a flustered Deceit would be this adorable, but now he doesn’t know how he’s going to live without it. Endearment burns like a pulsar in his chest, ravaging currents and waterfalls of happiness pouring out of him like liquid sunshine.

Deceit turns away from him and shoves his own tray of cookies into the oven beside the prince’s with bright red cheeks, turning to try to hide the tiny smile on his lips. Of course, Roman sees it anyway, and he’s suddenly hit with a wave of… something. Feelings, good feelings, feelings that are--

Uh oh.  _ Shit, _ that’s not good.

Roman has to take a moment to pick up the pieces of his stray thought process, blown apart by the gust of wind that was his rather important realization. Funnily enough, Deceit and Roman mirror each other, both of them embarrassed as they try to salvage a single bit of their dignity and composure. Roman’s  _ so _ screwed.

“A-Ah, okay. So I’ll just-- set the timer, and then they should be done! Um-- thank you for helping me, Dee. It was a lot of fun,” Roman tells him bashfully, thumbs coming together to bump into each other as a nervous tic. Deceit looks up again, face much more clear and back to its normal colour, and he gives the prince a nod.

“Of course. If you need me again, I’m here,” Deceit salutes, stepping away from the counter. He fixes his cape and adjusts his bowler hat, straightening out his appearance, and he shifts into the familiar posture they wear when they’re preparing to sink out. 

“Wait, what? Where’re you going? You gotta try my cookies and see that they’re better than yours!” Roman exclaims, using humour to hide his disappointment. With every day that they hang out together, Roman finds himself yearning more and more that their shared time is much longer than it is. There have been plenty of days where it takes everything in him to not ask Deceit to stay anyway, to disregard schedules and routine so that they don’t have to part. God, he really does sound like some shoujo anime schoolgirl, doesn’t he? Or, well. A Shakespeare play is probably more fitting, but Shakespeare plays don’t have pleated short skirts, so is there really much of a competition?

“I  **want** to leave, but I have  **absolutely nothing** to do,” Deceit says, clear despite the lost inflection, and it takes much less time than it used to take to realize that he’s speaking backwards again. That means he’s starting to get tired, and Roman would literally sooner die than force Deceit to forego rest, so he just sighs and bites his lip with a dejected nod.

“Promise you’ll come back on Thursday for that picnic I’ve been planning?” Roman asks, puppy-dog eyes running at full force even though he knows he doesn’t even need them. Deceit wouldn’t miss it.

“Promise.” And with that, Deceit sinks out, cape fluttering around his shoulders. He leaves a cold emptiness where he was, and Roman knows it’s because it’s his presence that keeps the day lively. The prince finds himself missing him already.

Later, when the cookies are done, Roman will taste one of his own. He’ll immediately spit it out in the garbage can because it tastes  _ awful, _ like he’s put four whole bags of sugar in his mouth simultaneously, and it won’t really be too much of a surprise. And then he’ll begrudgingly pick up one of Deceit’s cookies with firm fingers and wistful eyes to take a bite, will let his teeth sink into sweetness and spice, and it’ll taste kinda like home.

But for now, Roman leans back against the counter, sighs, and waits for the absence of Deceit’s warmth to sink from the forefront of his mind.

* * *

“I bet his cookies  _ sucked! Ahahaha!” _

“Remus… I’m sure they were fine!”

“You think  _ Roman _ knows how to follow recipes? Those two are probably gonna keel over and die when they taste it!”

“That’s so mean! He’s… well, I mean,  _ yeah, _ but he tried his best, okay?!”

_ “Ahahahaha!” _

5

“That’s  _ fine! _ We don’t need ‘im! If he’s gonna take credit for  _ our _ work, Thomas, then who needs him, anyway?”

Today is yet another stressful day to add to the list of stressful days Roman’s been having recently. For one, Deceit has been gone for two weeks now, and Roman hates to admit it, but it’s really affecting his sleep patterns. He never goes to bed on time anymore because he doesn’t have anyone to nag him to stop working, so he’s gone through whole nights with his head in the clouds until he suddenly realizes that it’s nearly noon and he doesn’t have a single word written down.

Secondly, for some reason, Virgil’s been acting weird around him. Not talking to him normally, avoiding him, giving his room wary glances-- their few conversations have been really stilted and bordering on passive-aggressive, which is making Roman more upset than he wants to acknowledge. He really thought that they’d made progress since the beginning, but now it feels like they’re slowly reverting right back to the place they were in before. Patton’s sort of weird too, not in the same way as Virgil, but more than he looks kind of nervous when Roman’s around. Always looking over his shoulder, standing really close for no discernable reason, and just acting suspicious in general.

Today they’re doing a video based on the best of the very few ideas Roman has been able to churn out in the past couple weeks, and even this one is mediocre in comparison to past video topics. It’s so shallow that it doesn’t feel right, but Roman couldn’t really come up with anything better, and there wasn’t any other drama going on in Thomas’ life to build on but this. His creative process has been healthier with Deceit’s influence, and the workflow has been much smoother, so Roman hasn’t had to deal with a creative block in months. And now, since Deceit is gone doing… whatever he does, Roman’s back to square one.

“It’s not that simple! We can’t just-- just  _ fire _ him, he’s the only person who’ll work with Jeremy,” Virgil shoots back, knuckles white in their grip on his jacket. Patton raises his hands as if he wants to go over and comfort him, but they’re not really supposed to leave their spots when filming for things that aren’t important. Of course, that rule has been broken a few times, but some of them have been specifically written into the script in the hopes of masking the flukes as being a running joke.

“So we can’t fire him, because there’s nobody to take his place, but we also shouldn’t  _ keep _ him either, since he’s being unfair to me and everyone else. We’re stuck.  _ Greeeat,” _ Thomas sighs, rubbing his forehead in an attempt to ease some tension. Logan folds his arms as Virgil groans, but doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to wait for everyone else to get out any other grievances.

“W-Well, I don’t think it’s very nice to fire him, because everyone has their own flaws, but he is being really hurtful to you and your friends, Thomas. I think in this situation, you have to decide whether you believe he can improve if we give him a chance, or if you believe that he’s going too far and that those… kinds of behaviours aren’t tolerated in the workplace,” Patton tries, as soft as possible as he thinks through the situation. His eyebrows are drawn together in confusion, like he’s stumbling over his own thought process, and Roman is inclined to relate. Although he still does think they should fire Aaron, their new intern who has been causing a lot of trouble, his brain is a bit scrambled too. Roman hasn’t realized just how much he needs Deceit to operate properly until recently.

“Yeah, Patton, I know, it’s just… how do you know? How can you predict something like that? There’s no way to tell if someone can change or if they’ll continue to act out this early. I don’t think it’s fair to Aaron to let him go so soon after he started, just in case this is something that can be resolved. But I also don’t think it’s fair to  _ us _ to keep him around on the chance that he won’t ever improve, and we’ll waste time on a bad employee waiting for a change that’ll never come when we could already be looking for someone else to fill the role and do it better,” Thomas explains, trying to lay out the basic facts of the situation so that they can pick it apart more efficiently.

“Yes, that is the dilemma. But, if I may, I believe that you are not approaching this situation in the way you should be, Thomas,” Logan interjects, finally starting in on his own input into the conversation. Roman crosses his arms and nearly huffs out a sigh on reflex, but a voice in his head tells him that doing that wouldn’t be very nice, and it isn’t a true representation of what he really thinks. Although Logan may be long-winded in his portions of the conversation, he usually is the one who sorts everything out and stops all the craziness and stress, so Roman should consider that instead of immediately going to make fun of him for  _ how _ he does it. The voice sounds suspiciously familiar, like his favourite snake is still here with him.

“Thomas, you are looking at this situation from a personal standpoint. You’re seeing this through the eyes of Thomas, but you need to see it through the eyes of a  _ businessman. _ If you change your perspective, you must understand that our best option here is to fire Aaron. Right now, he is a paid intern. You are spending money on him, giving him paychecks for services he isn’t truly providing, not to your satisfaction. As a business, what you need is an employee who  _ can _ carry out those promises and work as they should. You need someone who is efficient, polite, and who follows your rules and meets your needs as a businessman. Aaron is not meeting those needs.

“If that is not enough, consider the effects of what your choices would be on yourself as a businessman. If you don’t fire Aaron, you will continue to pay someone to do a job they aren’t doing properly. Maybe he changes for the better, maybe he doesn’t. No matter what, you are losing money and having to put up with an immature, inefficient worker in the meantime. You lose either way. If you fire him, you let go of someone who is not doing the job that you are paying them for, and you search for someone else who  _ will _ do that job. You will be getting exactly what you are paying for, which is a service, one that Aaron just isn’t providing for you.

“Even if Aaron were to change and become more professional in the workplace, what he could provide at his best is still less (or, at the most, the same) as someone else with far more experience could. Keeping Aaron means that if he does change, you are paying someone to be a bad employee until they learn to do their work at a fairly average level. If he doesn’t change, you’re wasting money, patience, and sacrificing your own work ethic to coddle someone who is knowingly taking advantage of you. If you fire him, you will have the chance to search for someone more professional or seasoned, and you will be getting your money’s worth in help.

“If you are to be a businessman, Thomas, you  _ have _ to put aside your personal feelings and guilt about being strict. Sometimes, you must be firm and assert your authority, or you will get people like Aaron who see that weakness and latch onto it. Firing people is just part of life, and learning how to prioritize yourself, your friends, and your business over the feelings of someone who is not doing their job properly is something you must learn to do if you wish to be successful.”

Roman could  _ cheer _ right now. As much as he makes fun of their resident nerd, he really does know how to say what Roman thinks, but better. Sometimes Roman wishes he could be as eloquent as Logan is, but he figures that super words-y stuff is more Logan’s thing than his, anyway. He’s already doing a great job at it, so there’s no need for Roman to butt in.

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right. I know you are, I know I need to think of what I need from an employee instead of how he’ll feel if I let him go, it’s just… hard. It’s hard to shut off that empathy switch in my brain, you know? I can’t  _ help _ but feel bad, because I can imagine myself in their shoes,” Thomas stresses, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. Patton bites his lip, a gentle concern for his host shining in his eyes. Virgil stays quiet, but looks up at Thomas from under his hood contemplatively.

“Well… that’s not… really what Logan was saying, was it? You don’t  _ need _ to shut off the empathy switch. It’s always gonna be on, because you care about other people. That’s not a bad thing. But if you let Aaron keep going like this without ever showing him that how he’s acting is wrong, he’ll never learn to be better. Being fired sucks, sure, but once he understands that having a job isn’t a game, that it’s something you have to take seriously and put effort in to keep, he’ll be able to grow from that and do better in the next job he gets. And there’s always gonna be a next job, so it’s not like we’re just leaving him high and dry, y’know?” Roman cuts in, hoping that what he’s saying isn’t completely off the mark. Virgil raises an eyebrow, gaze softening, and Patton relaxes again as a smile stretches across his face. Logan nods appreciatively, then speaks up again.

“Exactly. To grow is to understand failure and your part in it, isn’t it? Aaron must first lose to gain again, and when he realizes how he can do better, he will excel in his next endeavor,” Logan says gently, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face as he watches the tension in Thomas’ posture start to loosen up. As he thinks through it and understands his decision more, their host starts to look more confident.

“To tell you the truth, I’m not completely satisfied, but I understand that not everything can be a perfect compromise, and I need to start thinking of what’s best for me and the others in my life. Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it,” Thomas nods, that familiar smile back on his face once again, and he finally looks the most content he’s been since they’ve started. Patton giggles and claps once, tilting his head to the side like a puppy.

“Great! Now you can make pancakes, Thomas! And watch Steven Universe! It’ll be fun!”

And Thomas seems to really like that idea, because he nods his head vigorously and follows Patton into the kitchen. The two of them slip into the other room, conversing amongst themselves all the while, leaving the rest of them to stretch out a bit and recuperate from all the standing they’ve been doing. After a couple minutes, Patton returns, leaving Thomas to his own devices. Likely not a good idea, but he has to learn somehow, right?

“Oh, it seems I’ve missed the video. How  **fortunate,”** a familiar voice speaks up, and Roman immediately whips his head around to find the source. Deceit is  _ there, _ standing in the spot Thomas usually takes up, looking just as nice as he did a couple weeks ago. He wears a lazy smirk, basking in the confusion that erupts from his entrance. As soon as the others realize who has joined them, verbal chaos breaks out.

“Oh!”

“Deceit! I knew it, I told you something was going on, Patton! What are you trying to do?! I saw you snooping around in Roman’s room the other day, and if you try something I swear I’ll--”

“Virgil, Virgil! So soon with the threats? It’s only  **nine in the morning!”**

“Actually, it is six forty-two p.m.--”

“Logan! Absolutely  **awful** to see you on this fine evening. How have you been?”

“I-- Oh. Greetings, Deceit. I have been… fine. It’s not nine in the morning, though.”

“Oh, but of course, I kid, I kid!”

“I see.”

“Deceit, stop ignoring me! What were you doing looking through Roman’s stuff? Were you stealing? Casing the place? Hiding a bomb?!”

**“Obviously, I was planting the crown jewels in Roman’s underwear drawer to frame him so the police would never know it was actually** **_me_ ** **who took them all along!”**

“Crown-- what?  _ Deceit! _ Stop that!”

“Oh, fine, you party pooper. For your information, I was searching for my gloves. I seemed to have left them in there the day before.”

“What? Why were your gloves--”

“Anyway, enough boring chit-chat…” Deceit trails off, an irresistible grin on his face as he slowly turns to fully, properly look at Roman for the first time since he rose up. Having the snake-like side’s attention completely on him is like a rush of fire, a whole molten sun burning in his heart.

“Hello, my dear prince,” Deceit greets courteously, taking a half-bow to play up the drama. He’s always been a dork like that, huh? Although he upheld the mysterious, suave, regal tone when talking to the others, his voice and expression immediately softens when it locks onto Roman, which makes him feel like his knees are made of jelly. He’s gonna melt into a pile of mushy soft goo because of this wonderful snake, isn’t he?

And Roman  _ beams, _ jumping forward to tackle Deceit in a hug.

Deceit stumbles backward a step or two, not expecting to have a sudden increase in weight put on him with such force. Although he could easily fall because of it, Deceit immediately reaches up to hold Roman securely around the waist, instinctually doing what he can to prevent him from falling. The action is sweet, sweeter than those terrible cookies Roman made last month, and he finds that he enjoys this type of saccharine much more.

“R-Roman?” Patton asks, confused and mildly scared. No doubt Virgil has been stressing about this for a while, and if Virgil is stressing about something, Patton is too. That’s probably why they’ve been acting so weird lately-- but it’s fine! Deceit isn’t what they think he is, and when they realize that, it’ll all work out!

“Dee! I missed you so  _ much! _ Where have you been, you asshole?” Roman demands, lightly punching Deceit in the arm as he pulls away from their hug. The snake-like side rolls his eyes with an amused snort, rubbing at the place he got hit. “I was about to go hunt you down!”

“No, Roman, no hunting necessary. I’ve just had some stuff to deal with. Nothing bad, just… time-consuming. I’m sorry I haven’t kept in contact, dumbass,” Deceit insults affectionately, knocking his knuckles into Roman’s head to muss up his locks. Roman reaches up to hold his hair down, looking up at his friend with bright eyes and a shining smile, so happy to have him back that he doesn’t really care that they kind of have an audience right now.

They haven’t necessarily been  _ hiding _ their friendship from the others, but nobody else ever asked, and they don’t typically hang out in more public places. Their activities are usually localized to Roman’s room or some place in the Imagination, which is rarely occupied by anyone other than Remus, so none of the others have ever actually even seen them together in one place outside of videos.

“Princey? What are you doing?” Virgil asks with a warning tone, signifying that things might get messy quickly. Roman looks back with wide eyes, head cocked as he tries to gather his thoughts, and then he looks back to Deceit helplessly. The snake-like side only shrugs, raising his eyebrow as he gestures at Virgil with his head, as if telling him to do whatever he wants. “He’s dangerous. Get away from him before he hurts you.”

“Virgil,” Logan sighs, arms still cross and still in the exact same position as before. He seems exasperated with the claims, annoyance in the tick of his brow, but he doesn’t offer anything else quickly enough to beat Roman to firing back.

“What? Dangerous?  _ Dee? _ Are we talking about the same person right now?” Roman asks incredulously, not completely sure if this is a joke or not. The prince knows that Virgil doesn’t like Deceit, but surely it can’t be bad enough to where he actually thinks Deceit is a danger to them, right? That’s… so far off the mark of what Deceit is actually like that it’s laughable. So… well, he laughs. What else can he do to fill the awkward, tense silence that’s fallen over them? 

“Roman, you don’t know him like I do. He’s a liar, it’s his job to manipulate people! He’s using you, he’ll  _ hurt _ you!” Virgil shouts, an echo of an echo threatening to appear underneath, a whisper of the Tempest’s Tongue waiting in the shadows. The words, despite them not even really being about him, make him genuinely upset. He’s offended,  _ angry _ on Deceit’s behalf, because can’t Virgil see how hard Deceit is trying to help Thomas and do his job? If he really thinks that Deceit is dangerous, that he would ever hurt them, would ever hurt  _ Roman, _ then apparently he doesn’t know Deceit as well as he thinks he does.

“Okay, look. I don’t know what happened between you two, and I don’t know why you hate him so much, but Deceit isn’t what you think he is. I thought he was bad, too, because I was an idiot! But I gave him a chance and looked past first impressions and I’m  _ so _ glad that I did, because Deceit is wonderful. He’s kind, and sweet, and funny, and he puts up with all of my shit even when I don’t deserve it. He makes me a better person, helps me function properly, and I’m pretty sure if it weren’t for him, I would have completely broken down a long time ago. You can take your time getting over whatever the hell happened, and I’ll respect that, but I don’t want you ever talking like that about my friend again, got it?” Roman rants, face red from both anger and embarrassment at what he said but his stance firm and tall. Despite how much he wants to run and hide, he promised he’d be there for Dee just like he is for Roman, so he will do everything in his power as a prince to fight for Deceit’s honour.

“I just… I don’t want you to get hurt,” Virgil whispers, ashamed and scared as he cowers in his hoodie. Patton’s hands flutter about uselessly, a small noise escaping him in his want to make the situation better, but there’s nothing he can really do right now. And for a moment, Roman feels bad. Maybe he was too harsh, or maybe this wasn’t the right time. But then he glances over at Deceit and sees just the warmest look in his eyes, trained completely on him, and all of the guilt vanishes.

“...Virgil. You have made a lot of assumptions about Deceit and who he really is, and that’s not okay. I made those same mistakes, and I also made the effort to rectify them. I really hope to see you grow past this and look beyond the surface like I have to see the gold shining underneath,” Roman states, a hand on his heart as he gazes off into the distance (well, at the wall). A solemn silence befalls the room, only punctuated even more by the way Logan rolls his eyes at the dramatics and rubs at his temple in exasperation but still quirks a smile at his antics anyway. Roman doesn’t move from that spot for the whole of about seven seconds, and then he’s interrupted from making his patented brooding face by a late returned punch in the arm.

“Oh, shut up. No need to get all poetic on me,” Deceit jokes, a genuine, sweet smile touching the corners of his eyes. Roman doesn’t know how else to respond but with an answering grin of his own, just as bright to portray how much love and care and compassion he holds for his kind snake-y friend. With a mischievous giggle, Roman turns around and grabs Deceit by the arm, pulling him close as the two of them sink out into the mindscape once again.

* * *

“He… he defended me. In  _ front _ of them. Against-- against  _ Virgil.” _

“Woah, didn’t think he’d have the guts to do it! Hey, why does Virgil wanna yeet you across the world every time he sees you, anyway?”

“...I stole his copy of the first Benji movie and he’s hated me ever since.”

“Woah, bro, you don’t do that. That ain’t cool. You can’t just take a man’s sad dog movie away. How would you like it if I swallowed  _ your _ Old Yeller whole, right here, right now?”

“The-- the movie or the  _ dog?” _

“Yes.”

“You’re not my friend anymore. I’m applying for a new best friend.”

“Boo-hoo!”

“Oh? Then I’m replacing you with Roman--”

“ _ Take it the fuck back.” _

+1

Roman’s been finding himself in the Imagination a lot recently. Partially because of his semi-daily excursions with Deceit, which lead them into the Imagination about 60% of the time, but also because it’s just a very personal place for him. It’s his  _ realm, _ his domain, one of the very few things he actually has control of. In here, he can be anyone, be anywhere, do any _ thing _ he wants to, and he can do it all alone when he needs to. And sometimes, he really needs to be alone.

That isn’t to say he’s an antisocial person. He’s an extrovert by all means, always preferring the company and social interaction to complete and utter solitude. But with all of that performing, putting on masks to be someone he wishes he could be, he gets tired easily. Exhausted, really, which isn’t always the type of exhaustion you can remedy away with a comfortable bed and nine hours of nothingness.

Sometimes, when things get too overwhelming for Roman to keep ignoring, he just comes here, ready to start an adventure with only himself to have to deal with. He doesn’t have to force himself to be Creativity here, not like he does out there. In the Imagination, in run-down villages raided by the Dragon Witch with his katana at his side and rough, strappy clothing the only thing on his back, he can just be Roman for a while. Not Creativity, not the prince, not a responsibility. Just Roman.

And he kind of needs that right now. He’s not sure why he’s feeling so tired, because things have been  _ much _ better than they were the first week following Roman and Virgil’s argument, but something has been weighing down on him for a while now and he has no clue what it is. Today, he’s just walking along the dirt pathways winding up the mountain, looking down on the huge walled-in capital city miles below. Watching the horse-drawn carriages and bustling marketplace and children playing with tin cans in the streets is calming, allows him to gain a broader sense of perspective, and he always feels better by the time he has to go.

Roman walks for a while, feeling the pebbles and stones kicked onto the pathway poke his feet through the thin soles of his cloth shoes. Although he doesn’t necessarily need to, and it doesn’t give him any particular advantage, dressing up for the part when he’s in this environment helps him get into the headspace he needs to be in while he’s here. The trees slowly converge in on him the further he walks, jumping in closer and closer to the path every time Roman looks up. He’s getting closer to the top of the mountain, knows this path by heart from how many times he’s traversed it. He’s heading for the spring at the very top, the hidden grove almost like a volcano filled with calm waters that cover the grotto it resides in with a luminescent blue glow.

Arriving at the top is like a breath of fresh air despite how the oxygen runs low the higher up you go, simply because the air quality is so clean up here that it’s almost like taking a big gulp of that refreshing spring water. He’d never actually drink the water, because it’s incredibly poisonous, but it looks pretty. The bioluminescent material that comes off of the species of fish that lives in the spring (Roman knows that exotic fish shouldn’t really be in springs, but he created this place when he was ten, so) is very pretty and glows brightly, but ingesting even a trace amount of it could prove fatal. Since he’s a side, he can’t actually die, but it  _ would _ give him a stomachache, so he’ll pass on it for now.

Roman tumbles through the brush, wading through vines and bushes and fireflies that light up with every colour of the rainbow. Even the foliage lights up, twinkling behind the bark of the trees and like diamonds in the soft, damp dirt. His feet pat softly on the ground, making very little noise apart from the swishing of his tunic. Things are always quiet around here; it’s so high up on the mountain that none of the people living in the capital city below ever bother to attempt the trek to the top. It requires stamina that most city-goers don’t have, so Roman supposes it’s a good thing he exercises daily.

At this point, it really shouldn’t be a surprise that Deceit is up here just waiting to be stumbled upon. His skin looks green in this light, sallow under the blue tones, but the way the trees and bushes reflect off of his scales is like looking at a work of art. He’s sitting at the edge of the water, brushing his fingers across four-leaf glow-vers (ten year old Roman was just as pun-happy as Patton is) and closing his eyes against the light of the Fireflowers (ten year old Roman also simultaneously  _ sucked _ at naming his own creations) drooping low from the tree branches hanging over the two of them.

Roman pads over to where Deceit is sitting, purposely making a couple of rustling noises by swishing his feet through the bushes so as not to startle the contemplative side. Once Deceit looks up at him out of the corner of his eye, Roman sits down beside him, joining him in picking up a glowing honeysuckle flower to fidget with. He can smell the scent of it from here, sweet and aromatic to cut through the sparkling violet moss.

“Needed to be alone, too, huh?” Roman asks, lowering his voice to a more acceptable level. With how close the trees cave in above the spring and how little gaps there are in the mass of vines and leaves enclosing this place from wind and sunlight, the sound feels muffled, muted. It’s like he’s always speaking through a phone, just less digitized, and it always leaves Roman trying to depressurize his eardrums before he realizes that it’s not him, it’s the grotto. Maybe it helps the sound from  _ leaving, _ too, so that nobody would hear in there no matter how loudly he sung or screamed or cried. He wouldn’t know, since nobody else has been up here before.

“Yeah. Sorry if this is your place. When I sunk in, I got put over halfway up the mountain instead of inside Remus’ mansion, so I just thought I might as well continue to the top. I didn’t know there’d be anything up here,” Deceit explains, voice lighter than a feather. It’s a bit difficult to make out a few words, but Roman thinks he gets the jist of it. “Did you make this?”

Roman just nods, then flicks his hand out to toss the honeysuckle flower into the spring. It floats on the top for a moment, soft white contrasting well with dark blue, but then a surge comes, and the navy ramps it’s way up to a blinding cyan. The disturbance in the waters from the bioluminescent fish activating the rest of the material floating in the spring cuts through the calm if only for a moment, and ripples overtake the honeysuckle to pull it under the slowly darkening surface. “I wanted a panic room when I was ten. Instead, I got the grotto. I’m much happier with this than some cold metal box.”

“At least you’re getting use out of it,” Deceit murmurs, like he doesn’t know what else to say. And hell, if Roman is already in such a magical place, what’s the harm in being truly honest for once? This is probably his last chance to do this before he loses his nerve forever, so here’s to hoping Deceit doesn’t punch him in the face, he guesses.

“Deceit, I like you,” Roman breathes, swallowing hard around his anxiety. The Fireflowers above and the glow-vers below seem to perk up at his words, standing just a bit taller or flaring just a bit curvier as in preparation for some musical dance number where they have to look their best.

“I like you too, Roman,” Deceit says, looking down at the glow worm with a particular shade of self-deprecating that he wears almost proudly. His tone is flat, voice dull, and Roman immediately thinks that he’s fucked. Of course Deceit is uncomfortable with this, what was he thinking? “You’re a very good friend.”

He says the word like it’s repulsive to him, like the word “friend” personally broke into his house and stole his favourite movies and all of the food from his cabinets. And maybe his Shrek DVD. Roman’d be pretty upset if that happened to him. Is he panicking right now? He’s kind of panicking right now. “No, Dee, not like a friend. I like you romantically.”

Deceit immediately looks up, all of that haze over his eyes cleared like a deep fog purged from the nighttime. He drops the flower he’s holding into the water by accident, some blue-petaled blossom that kind of looks like a marigold. It lands upside down, droops dejectedly as it sinks, and Roman thinks that it looks kinda like Deceit does right now. “What? What-- But I’m-- I’m--”

“You’re what? Deceit? That’s  _ why _ I love you, you bitch,” Roman chuckles, knocking his shoulder against Deceit’s own good-naturedly even though he literally feels like he’s gonna throw up. 

“D-Dumbass. But--”

“You’re Dee! You’re my best friend! And-- And they always said that I’m a hopeless romantic, haha! So it’s-- isn’t it natural that I end up f-falling in love with you?” Roman mumbles, scratching a hole in the dirt with his index finger. Tiny golden flowers fall from the trees and scatter all around them, carried to infinity on a breeze that shouldn’t be able to pierce through the cover of the brush. It all feels too unreal, too blistering fake even with the light brush of the petals on his skin, and he’s suddenly made acutely aware that this is all just made up in someone’s mind.

“You’re… in love with me?” Deceit whispers, face half-buried in his arms from where his chin rests on his knees. The fabric of his grey pants looks rough, like it wouldn’t be comfortable at all to lay on or wear, and Roman finds it funny that he’s drawn to such small details in order to block out his fear of the bigger picture.

“Yeah, Dee. I am. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. Please… just don’t hate me, okay?” Roman asks, knowing how pathetic he sounds. He can’t help it though, can’t help the insecurity, because Deceit hasn’t let any of his opinions on the matter out at all yet. The words just spilled out, unfiltered, because he’s so terrified of what will happen if Deceit decides that he wants nothing more to do with Roman after this. He probably despises him, thinks it’s weird and it’ll just make everything awkward. Oh god, who’s going to tease him now? Who’s going to bully him into going to bed at a normal time and run around with him in the Imagination and make disgusting food concoctions when they’re bored? Who’s going to be that kind of friend for him now that Deceit  _ hates him-- _

“I-- I love you too, Roman. I’m… in love with you, too,” Deceit breathes, head thumping down to rest fully between his knees. Everything in Roman stops at that, forces him to restart his systems and take a moment to properly process it. Once he understands, he feels  _ really _ stupid for freaking out preemptively like that. Ugh, is this how Virgil feels  _ all the time? _ “We’ve been really stupid, haven’t we?”

“Big dumbasses,” Roman chokes out incredulously, and it only makes way for somewhat delirious-sounding laughter. But that’s okay, because Dee is laughing with him, sounding just as dumb and tired as he is. “I love you. So much.”

“Love you too, Roman,” Deceit sighs as he buries his face into the crook of Roman’s neck, leaning on him companionably as they look out with droopy eyes over the water. It’s on another cycle, just starting to wind up to full luminescence again, and he almost wants to laugh at how much this is like a movie. Roman can feel Deceit’s hair tickling his jaw, the signature bowler hat having been discarded onto the neon grass beside them. It feels more familiar than it really should.

“Hey, Dee, can I kiss you?” Roman asks suddenly, prompting Deceit to pull his head back and look at him properly. Roman just stares into the waters, takes in that weak, rapidly fading blue glow before it’s gone again, and braces himself for rejection. “It’s all I’ve wanted since that first day in the Imagination, when I was practicing on that straw dummy.”

“Ah, when you fell on your ass like an idiot and embarrassed yourself in front of me?” the snake-like side teases, resting his chin on Roman’s shoulder. At the taller side’s affronted noise, Deceit just gives a soft laugh, light and breezy like the wind-chime flowers hanging above them. “Don’t give me that; your clumsiness was cute. I wanted to kiss you, too.”

And then Deceit adjusts himself to sit properly, straddling Roman’s legs for the best access, and all of the air in Roman’s lungs escapes him in seconds. The snake-like side leans in, lightly curled hair falling in a wavy fringe over his face in a way that tickles Roman’s forehead. Deceit’s so close Roman can feel the puff of his breath exhaled onto his own face, scales glinting jade and oil slick rainbows under the Fireflowers’ light to match the fireflies hovering around them. And then they’re finally,  _ finally _ there, doing what Roman has wanted to do since the beginning.

The kiss is sweet and slow, nothing like what Roman imagined at the beginning when it felt much more desperate than their relationship calls for now. He’s glad that it’s different, though, because it’s a whole new experience for Roman to neatly, meticulously catalogue in his mental vault of treasured memories, stood upon a pedestal of ruby and gold. And in the corner, he pulls a slightly dustier memory off the shelf and blows the blemishes away to give it a polished shine once more.

“We’re still rivals,” Roman remarks lowly between little kisses, pecks that last less than a second but always come right back around again for more. Deceit pushes closer, wraps his arms around Roman’s neck, and keeps giving.

_ Kiss. _

“Roman, we’re boyfriends.”

_ Kiss. _

“Rivals.”

_ Kiss. _

“Boyfriends.”

_ Kiss. _

“Rivals!”

_ Kiss. _

_ “Roman.” _

_ Kiss. _

“Fine, rival boyfriends.”

_ Kiss. _

_ “Hah-- _ sure, whatever you say. Rival boyfriends.”

_ Kiss. _

“I’m gonna be the better boyfriend. I’ll win.”

_ Kiss. _

“Never. I’m the alpha boyfriend.”

_ Kiss. _

“No, I am! I’ll give you so many cuddles you’ll be drowning in them.”

_ Kiss. _

“Hmm… that’s pretty tempting. I suppose that means you’re already in first place, my love.”

_ Kiss. _

“My  _ love?” _

_ Kiss. _

“What a dignified noise.”

_ Kiss. _

_ “Shut up! _ It was  _ manly! _ A  _ manly _ noise!”

_ Kiss. _

“Yes, a manly mouse squeak. Of course, sweetheart.”

_ Kiss. _

“Sweet-- Dee!”

_ Kiss. _

“Honey.”

_ Kiss. _

_ “Dee!” _

_ Kiss. _

“Baby.”

_ Kiss. _

“Stop it! I won’t kiss you!”

_ Kiss. _

“Couldn’t have that, now could we?”

_ Kiss. _

“Hmph. Rival boyfriends.”

_ Kiss. _

“Rival boyfriends.”

_ Kiss. _

And--  _ oh. _ That feeling, that exhausting, hollow, tired feeling that’s been following him around constantly the past few days, he gets it now. He understands, because he’s figured out what he needed to fill that empty space, and Roman feels just a little bit more complete with it.

* * *

“He kissed me. For real. He wants-- he wants to be my boyfriend.”

“Huh! Didn’t think my big bro’d have the balls to make a move!”

“You give him less credit than he deserves.”

“He deserves  _ exactly _ what I give him and that’s that!”

“...”

“So…”

“So what?”

“So…  _ now _ you can fuck!”

_ “Remus!” _

**Author's Note:**

> concrit and comments are my life force! :)
> 
> (just a little side note-- the songs in the theatre scene don't have a name yet, but if you have suggestions, i'd love to hear them!)


End file.
